The Grim Reaper's Bride

The first time I saw Death, he looked at me like he had been waiting centuries. Not hours. Not days. Centuries. He stood beneath a broken streetlamp across from St. Vincent Medical Center, dressed entirely in black while rain poured around him in silver sheets. And somehow, not one drop touched him. I noticed that first. Then I noticed his face. He was too beautiful in the wrong kind of way. Not soft. Not welcoming. Beautiful like winter. Like a cathedral after midnight. Like something carved from stone and grief. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Pale. Black hair falling just enough across his forehead to make him look almost human. Almost. But his eyes ruined the illusion. They were silver. Not gray. Silver. Cold and luminous beneath the flickering streetlight. And they were fixed on me. I stopped under the hospital awning. For one absurd second, I wondered whether I knew him. I didn't. I would have remembered him. "Coming, Evelyn?" I glanced over my shoulder. My coworker Megan stood near the employee entrance, wrestling with an umbrella that the wind was doing its best to murder. "No," I called. "My sister's picking me up." "Engagement dinner?" "Unfortunately." "You say that like free food is a tragedy." "You haven't met my family." She laughed. "Text me tomorrow." "I will." Megan disappeared into the rain. When I looked across the street again, the man was still there. Watching. A strange shiver moved down my spine. Most sensible women probably would have gone back inside. I had just finished a twelve-hour emergency-room shift involving two overdoses, one motorcycle accident, an elderly man who had proposed marriage to me after receiving morphine, and a teenager who screamed louder about four stitches than the man beside him did about a broken femur. My capacity for fear was apparently exhausted. So I stared back. His expression changed. Barely. One corner of his mouth moved. Was he amused? "Okay," I muttered. "Creepy." I pulled out my phone. Three missed calls from Sarah. Of course. I called her. She answered immediately. "Where are you?" "Hello to you too." "Evelyn." "I'm outside." "We're stuck at the light." I looked toward the intersection. Headlights glowed through the rain. "Relax. I can see traffic." "Mom is already freaking out because you're late." "Mom has been freaking out since 1997." "That is because you were born in 2002." "Exactly. I caused lasting emotional damage." Sarah laughed despite herself. "Just stay there. Two minutes." "Yes, ma'am." "And don't disappear." "I'll try very hard not to vanish mysteriously." She hung up. I slipped my phone into my coat pocket. Across the street, the stranger's amusement had disappeared. Now he looked... Concerned. I frowned. His gaze shifted away from me. Toward the intersection. A red rubber ball rolled into the street. Then a little boy chased after it. Everything changed. "Hey!" He couldn't have been older than six. Yellow raincoat. Tiny blue sneakers. One hand reaching toward the ball. A delivery truck turned through the light. Too fast. The boy froze. Someone screamed. I didn't think. I ran. My shoes hit wet pavement. The driver's horn exploded through the street. "Move!" The boy looked at me. Terrified. I reached him. I shoved him toward the curb. Then headlights filled my vision. There was a strange moment where everything became perfectly clear. I saw the boy slide across the pavement. Saw his mother reach for him. Saw Sarah's car at the intersection. And saw the man in black. He wasn't beneath the streetlamp anymore. He stood directly in front of me. His silver eyes widened. "No." It was the first word I ever heard him speak. Then the truck hit me. Silence. Not quiet. Silence. Absolute. Heavy. Wrong. I opened my eyes. Rain hung motionless in the air. Thousands of droplets floated around me like crystals. The truck sat several yards away. People were frozen mid-motion. The little boy lay on the curb beneath his mother's arms. Alive. Thank God. I breathed out. At least... I thought I did. But something felt strange. Light. Empty. I looked down. And saw myself. My body lay in the street. Blood spread beneath my head. One arm rested at an unnatural angle. My coat was torn. My eyes were closed. I stared. No. No. I stepped backward. "No." My hands began shaking. "No, no, no." I moved toward my body. Someone caught my wrist. Cold fingers. Strong. I turned. The stranger. Up close, he was even more unsettling. And far more beautiful. His skin was pale, but not sickly. His features were sharp and controlled. His black coat reached his boots, embroidered along the collar with symbols that seemed to shift whenever I looked directly at them. But his eyes... They were devastating. Silver and endless. And for some reason, filled with something that looked almost like pain. "Don't," he said. I looked at his hand wrapped around my wrist. Then back at him. "What happened?" His grip loosened. I already knew. I didn't want to know. "Tell me." His gaze moved toward my body. "You died." The words should have destroyed me. Instead, I laughed. One short, broken laugh. "No." "I'm sorry." That made me look at him. "I'm sorry?" He said nothing. "Who are you?" He held my gaze. "You already know." I looked at the frozen street. The unmoving rain. My body. Then him. Black clothes. Silver eyes. Impossible stillness. My stomach dropped. "No." He didn't answer. "You are not..." "I am." I swallowed. "The Grim Reaper?" His mouth tightened slightly. "I have been called worse." I stared at him. "You're Death." "Yes." For some ridiculous reason, the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "You don't have a scythe." His brows drew together. "You expected one?" "I don't know. Skeleton. Hood. Scythe. General nightmare situation." "I can arrange that if it would make this easier." I stared. He stared back. Then I realized something. "Was that a joke?" "No." "It sounded like one." "I rarely joke." "You should. You're decent at it." Something flickered in his expression. Again, that almost-smile. Then it vanished. I looked back at my body. Reality finally reached me. My mother. Sarah. My apartment. My job. My half-dead houseplant. Everything. Gone. My throat closed. "My sister is coming." "I know." "She'll see me." "Yes." "Oh God." My knees weakened. Death caught me before I fell. One arm wrapped around my waist. The other steadied my shoulder. For someone called Death, he held me surprisingly gently. I pressed a hand against his chest. There was no heartbeat. Of course there wasn't. But there was warmth. Faint. Unexpected. He looked down at me. We were much too close. I became aware of everything at once. The strong line of his jaw. The cold scent of winter and smoke surrounding him. The weight of his arm around me. And the strange way he was looking at my face. Not like a soul. Not like a duty. Like a man trying to remember something. "What?" I whispered. His eyes searched mine. "Nothing." "That was definitely something." He released me carefully. "You should come with me." "Where?" "My realm." "That's ominous." "It is simply accurate." I looked toward the little boy. "Will he be okay?" Death followed my gaze. "Yes." "His mother?" "Alive." "The driver?" "Alive." Relief moved through me. I closed my eyes. "Then it was worth it." When I opened them again, Death was staring at me. Hard. Almost angry. "What?" "You died." "I noticed." "And you call it worth it." "He was a child." "So?" I blinked. "So I couldn't let him die." "You did not know him." "I didn't need to." His expression changed. Something behind his eyes softened. "Humans," he murmured. "What is that supposed to mean?" "You are very strange creatures." "You're the Grim Reaper. I don't think you get to call anyone strange." That almost-smile returned. This time, it lasted slightly longer. I noticed. So did he. His face immediately became unreadable again. Interesting. Then something behind him appeared. A black book. It materialized in his hand without warning. "That is new," I said. "The Ledger." "The Ledger of what?" "Souls." He opened it. Pages turned by themselves. Thousands of names appeared and disappeared in silver ink. Death's expression slowly changed. He flipped another page. Then another. I watched him. "Problem?" Silence. "Death?" He looked up. I had never seen anyone look so controlled while clearly being disturbed. "What?" "Your name isn't here." I laughed nervously. "That sounds impossible." "It is." "Maybe you're looking under the wrong letter." "I do not alphabetize mortality." "Fair." He looked again. The pages began turning faster. Then stopped. Blank. His silver eyes moved to me. "Evelyn Ashcroft." "Yes." "You were not meant to die tonight." My entire body went still. "What?" He shut the book. "You were not scheduled for death." Hope exploded inside me. "Then send me back." His silence crushed it immediately. "You can do that, right?" "No." "But I wasn't supposed to die." "I know." "Then fix it." "I cannot." "You're Death." "Exactly." "You say that like it explains anything." "I collect souls. I do not restore destroyed bodies." I looked at mine again. My voice came quieter. "So I'm stuck." "For now." "For now?" "I must determine what happened." "And what happens to me while you're determining it?" "You remain with me." I looked at him. "With you." "Yes." "In your kingdom." "Yes." "Do I get a room?" He paused. "I suppose." "Window?" Another pause. "There are windows." "Good. I'd hate for the afterlife to have terrible real estate." He stared at me for several seconds. Then something extraordinary happened. Death laughed. It wasn't loud. Barely more than a breath. But it transformed his face. The coldness disappeared for half a second. He looked younger. Almost human. Beautiful in a completely different way. Then he stopped. His expression hardened. Like he had committed a crime. I smiled. "You do laugh." "Apparently." "See? I'm already improving the afterlife." "You have been dead less than five minutes." "And look at the progress." He shook his head. Actually shook his head. Then his gaze dropped toward my wrist. His expression changed instantly. "What?" He caught my hand. The touch sent a strange pulse through me. Not pain. Heat. It raced from my fingertips to my chest. I gasped. Death's eyes widened. A black symbol appeared beneath my skin. Thin lines curled around my wrist like vines. They formed a circle. Then a crown. Death went completely still. "What is that?" He didn't answer. "Death?" He turned my wrist over slowly. His thumb brushed the mark. The contact sent another warm pulse through me. Something shifted in his face. Fear. No. Not fear exactly. Recognition. "Tell me." He looked at me. "You have been marked." "By what?" His jaw tightened. "The oldest bond in my kingdom." I waited. He clearly didn't want to continue. "Which means?" His eyes held mine. For the first time, he looked less like the King of Death... and more like a man who had just encountered something he desperately wanted and equally desperately feared. "It means the realm has recognized you." "As what?" His thumb still rested against the inside of my wrist. He seemed to notice. Slowly, he released me. But not before I noticed how reluctant the movement felt. He stepped back. Too far. Creating distance. I didn't understand why that bothered me. Then he said the words that changed everything. "My bride." I stared at him. "Excuse me?" "The mark is the Bride's seal." "You have a bride?" "No." "Apparently you do." His eyes flashed. "I did not choose this." "Neither did I." "Good." I frowned. "Good?" "Yes." "Wow. You could pretend to be slightly less horrified." Something almost apologetic crossed his face. "This has nothing to do with you." "That's generally what men say right before saying something definitely related to you." "You are impossible." "I've known you six minutes." "Seven." I blinked. "You counted?" Silence. Interesting. Very interesting. A strange flutter moved through my chest. I ignored it. "I'm dead." "Yes." "And accidentally engaged." "Bound." "That's worse." "I am aware." I folded my arms. "To the Grim Reaper." "Yes." "Who clearly doesn't want me." His expression changed. Fast. Sharp. He stepped closer. "Do not mistake reluctance for rejection." The words landed somewhere low in my stomach. I swallowed. His voice became quieter. "I do not know you." "I don't know you either." "And yet the realm has tied your soul to mine." The air between us changed. For the first time, I noticed how close we stood again. He looked at my mouth. Only for a second. But he did. Then his gaze snapped back to my eyes. "There are reasons this cannot happen." "Marriage?" "Attachment." The word came out rougher than the others. "Why?" Death looked away. And somehow that told me more than an answer would have. Someone had hurt him. No. Someone had broken him. "You loved someone before." His eyes returned to mine. That silence was different. Ancient. Painful. I didn't push. Not yet. Instead, I looked down at the mark. "So what happens now?" He extended his hand. A doorway formed behind him from swirling black mist. Beyond it waited a palace beneath a silver moon. Towers disappeared into the dark sky. White roses grew along a black stone path. It was haunting. And breathtaking. Death looked at me. "Now you come home with me." Home. Something about the word hit too deeply. I stared at his offered hand. Then at him. "Are you going to murder me?" His brow lifted. "Evelyn." "Just checking." "You are already dead." "Right. Forgot." His lips twitched again. I smiled. Then I placed my hand in his. The instant our fingers touched, the mark on my wrist glowed. So did one beneath his glove. Death froze. I felt it. A pull between us. Warm. Deep. Intimate. Something neither of us understood. His fingers tightened around mine. Not enough to hurt. Enough to say he felt it too. His eyes met mine. For a moment, the frozen city disappeared. The dead body disappeared. The fear disappeared. There was only him. And me. And that impossible warmth connecting us. "Death?" "Yes?" "Do you have a name?" Something painful crossed his face. Then he answered quietly. "Not one anyone living remembers." "I'd like to." He stared at me. The walls around him seemed to rise instantly. "Do not." "Why?" "Because names create intimacy." I smiled faintly. "And being magically married doesn't?" He looked almost offended by the logic. I squeezed his hand. "Come on, husband." His eyes widened. I stepped through the doorway before he could respond. For three seconds, there was nothing behind me. Then I heard his voice. Low. Exasperated. And, unless I was imagining it, slightly amused. "This is going to be a very long eternity." For the first time since dying... I smiled. Maybe eternity wouldn't be so terrible after all.